


Comfort

by LadyBrooke



Series: Fëanorian Week [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10403781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Celegorm loves the forest, and for the most part, it loves him back, no matter what he does.Nine connected drabbles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fëanorian Week on Tumblr, Day 3. 
> 
> Bold words are the original prompts (sometimes split in half) from there.

**Childhood**

He is third born, after his principled oldest brother and perfectionist second brother.

He is not as principled as Maitimo (who will worry himself to the Halls one of these days) or as much a perfectionist as Makalaurë (who only thinks nobody notices he’s practicing in the forest. Honestly, what else would the calluses on his hands come from?)

But he is patient. Not in everything, but in the things that matter to him, like waiting in the grass for a bird to fly down and come close, or a fox to come and sniff his hand before chattering away.

**Hunting**

He hunts, but not as most elves do.

Four animals escape for every one he catches (and he does not let them go just because they tell him sob stories about their young, no matter what rumors Aikanáro and Angaráto spread.

They’re hardly sob stories if they’re true, after all).

 And he’s fine with that. He laughs when they question if he’s really a good hunter. 

He knows he’s superior to most elves at hunting and riding, and Oromë’s favorite.

And what does he care for the thoughts of elves, when he could hear what the animals have to say?

**Oromë**

“Would it interest you, cousin, to know that there are those among Men who hold Oromë in much esteem?” Finrod asked.

“Oh?” Celegorm looked up, hand reflexively reaching down to scratch behind Huan’s ears.

“They say that their cattle and horses descend from those he had with him when he first ventured out to find the Elves, and that they have persisted in those lands since then.”

Celegorm smiled. “Somehow, it would not surprise me if Oromë had left some kine behind merely to gore Morgoth if he escaped into the wilds again.”

Huan barked.

“See, Huan agrees,” Celegorm laughed.

**Huan**

He doesn’t tell Curufin, but when news comes that Huan is dead, he wants to scream and rage and hurt his brother for trying to kill Lúthien, for coming up with the plot in Nargothrond , for letting him be involved in the plot that had lost him the only friend that he had left.

He doesn’t tell anyone, but somehow Caranthir knows (Caranthir always knows) and gives him a bottle of wine that he drinks that night, locked in his rooms and staring at his knife.

He washes his eyes in the morning and becomes used to the hollowness.  

**Strength**

“The wind has picked up strength lately,” Celegorm says. “The hunting is no good here, unless you have vastly improved your skills with a bow.”

Curufin rolls his eyes. “You know I do not have time to. What do you suggest we do, then? You’re the one that wanted to hunt.”

“Why don’t we go on a trip to Caranthir’s lands? We need not be gone for long, just a brief break from this.”

“Fine,” Curufin finally agrees.

They return from their trip just after Aredhel has left their lands to explore Nan Elmoth.

Celegorm looks, but cannot find her.

**& Beauty**

Celegorm is vain.

He refuses to see this as a failing on his part, when his brothers can spend days lost in their own thoughts or composing music that they then burn or doing whatever it is the twins do in the forest (from what the birds say, it’s mainly crashing around disturbing things).

If he spends time each day to look his best, that was his choice and his alone.

Who cares if he looks nice to go into the forest? Nobody criticizes the kirinki for having brilliant scarlet feathers and they lived in the woods their entire lives.  

**Wickedness**

He can only go on if he believes what they are doing is right.

He sees what doubt has done to Maedhros and Maglor, who hesitate to trust their own judgment.

He will not fall into doubts unnumbered that he will never be able to escape from.

And if what he is doing is wicked, it is no different from what he has already done previously, so he will be doomed regardless.

There is a certain comfort in knowing his punishments can become no worse, no matter what he does in the future or how wrong it is to do.  

**Love**

He has decided that he will not marry until he finds someone he loves above all else.

He loves the forests as much as his father loves his jewels and his mother loves her statues. He knows how hard it was for them to stay together as they did, and he will not do that to himself or his wife.

So he continues as is, and when people ask him if he thinks he should marry, he smiles and shakes his head.

His brothers understand, except for Curufin who finds a woman he would put before everything (except their father).  

**Unrequited**

He had always assumed the forest and its animals would always love him as much as he did them, and that they would always comfort him, no matter what he does and who he becomes.

Then he dies in a cave in a forest, and the birds and beasts shy away from him, from the noise of the battle as it continues through the halls, and none come near as he drags himself closer to his brothers. They are already dead and he is ignored.  

As he takes his final breath, he feels a shrew nudge his hand and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes: Celegorm really was said to speak all the tongues of birds and animals, in _The Silmarillion._
> 
> The kirinki were mentioned in _Unfinished Tales_ as dwelling in Númenor. Since I choose to not believe in mass extinctions of animals when the island was lost (this is not the real world, I do what I want), Celegorm also has experience with them in Valinor. 
> 
> Tiny comforting shrew is my new favorite OC of mine. You go, tiny shrew, you’re the only unambiguously good thing in this whole fic.


End file.
